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Brian Turner Jan 2021
Clothed up to the max
I enter the garage to mount my indoor bike tracks
On a digital road we drift
As we press Go on the biking game "Zwift'

Ride fast, ride free
No need to watch out for the tree
As the game takes us on a journey
Hey "ride on' there's Bernie

The sweat builds to a stream
I race on in my digital dream
Watopia world provide us with freedom
A place to gather, a fellow biker's Eden
Daily exercise in the garage on my bike with a resistance wheel and using the cycling game "Zwift'
Alan Jul 2020
Hot rubber, kissing
perilously paved roads
in spaces that stretch on,
spaces that fall away —
away
into the distance.

A to B, directing
indirectly circular paths
within spaces that color about,
spaces that are peripheral — 
but
primary.
https://acyanlight.substack.com/p/periphery-is-primary
Lily Audra Apr 2020
I want to prepare food for you,
Chopping leeks and secretly dropping coriander into the pan,
I know you say you don't like it but you never notice and it really adds something,
The radio sings and fills the spaces between the smoke and steam and my thoughts,
I shout you alright, babe?,
You shout what?,
I walk over to the sofa holding a beer you chose and move towards you,
Grow towards you, lean over and press my cheek hard into your neck creases,
Your pulse thrumming through me like a train,
I close my eyes tight and think of all the times I was desperately alone,
In dark rooms in my mind,
Shall we cycle our bikes to the river tomorrow? you whisper into me,
Your breath warm and sweet,
I add salt to the dinner and you pull out a map and our days and nights are woven together by you looking at me looking at you.
Timothy Mar 2020
Each unnoticed moment I'm free
to love or loathe my precious life—
tough choice to have to make
on living's way; nothing
I could say as sweet as silence.

She speaks to me
as wheels roll
by the riverside,
the sleeping city
lost in a melody—
gone,
the premise of my misery.

Here I find forgotten space.
Salmabanu Hatim Nov 2019
Nothing matters,
Faster, Faster,
I pedal away,
To a bright new day.
Gives me wings to fly,
Every terrain I want to try,
Also chase the blue sky.
With the fresh open air,
As it messes with my hair,
I cycle everywhere,
In the woods, on a street or cycle track,
Here, there and back,
Up the hill I huff and puff,
Going up is tough.
Oh,what freedom!
Like the joy of stardom,
My mind crystal  clear,
Lots I discover as my bike I steer.
Round and round the wheels go,
In the sun, rain or snow,
Every moment I relish,
Never to end I wish.
18/11/2019.
Brandon Conway May 2019
Soma that seeps
flowing
like little creeks
sprinkling
off the edge
wetting
a tongue outstretched
watering
wilted flower beds
feeding
that pretty head
cycling
arid to wetlands
Jo May 2019
And in this moment
I have died
and am born again.
A king in cardboard boxes
dances through the drunken haze
a stag steps into the clearing
leading me back to the road
where my family awaits
their songs of pain and life
fall to deadened ears
another second has passed
and I'm back again;
Cambria Andersen Nov 2018
I was well once
I was soft once
No bouts of crazy once
No Bipolar once
I am stable right now, but not too long ago I was cycling. I have to manage it everyday. I live with it like anyone else that lives with a disease. It doesn't define me as a person, but I have to admit, my poetry comes easier when I am cycling. I am grateful for the stability I have today and the ability to manage this disease and still be successful in my public and private lives.
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